


Phanniemay 2019

by LadyRWidow



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Creepy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-16 01:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18681196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRWidow/pseuds/LadyRWidow
Summary: All of my prompt fills for Phanniemay 2019!





	1. Day 1: Doorways

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: So... creepy crawlies? Don't like spiders then you're not gonna like a few parts but other than that there's nothing else I can think of. 
> 
> Day 1: Doorways  
> Danny doesn't sleep too well at night.

Danny, when he did sleep, didn’t very much like what he dreamt. Sometimes he’d be in pitch darkness, shivering with the cold that seemed to brittle his bones with their merciless apathy. Other times he’d think he was home only to look up and see the distortion of the walls followed by objects turning into snakes and spiders, crawling over his skin and prying open his eyes when he tried to look away (from what from what was he looking). They never bit, or hurt. Black and occasionally green eyes would watch and make sure that he watched them in return..

s̷̪̘̬̯̻̓̂̿̂̃̚͘͞͠e̸̥̲͙̲͈̟̓̏͂̒̏̆͌̃͝ê̹͍̙̭̰̥͓̍̌͌̊̓͑͛͜͞, they would hiss ( ~~reassure~~ ). Š̨̧̡̟̪͔̆͆͒̄͐̒͜ḛ̷̼̠̖̎̽͘͜͟͞͞ę̣̘̰̉̉̉̓̅̐͝ͅ s̨̠̖̥̭̠̥̈͒͐̾̓͢͟ͅẻ̷̬͍̳̫̙̝̓͂͋̓͆̏͘͢͝e̢̛̛̱͚͓̝͔͈͉̥̾͆͊̋̋͒̈ ṁ̶̧͔͚̤̬͍̘͈̳̄̉͡͠ę̧̣͉̥̼̙̀̔̐̒̍͠ͅ ş̵̰̳͎͈̙͆͗̄͗̈́͒̄͌͟ͅȩ̷̰̞͚̫͔̩̉̀͋͆͆͗̍͡ę̸̪͚̞̥̈́̑͛̒͢ y̷̡̟̞̥̜͇̅͂̆̓̾͂̅͢͡ǒ̷̟͕͎̗̥̥͇͑͆̋͞u̵̧̘̜̯̹͖̗͑̓͛̆́̇̔̊͘͟͜.̶̧̨͕̜͐̿͋̈́̓̏̅͟

He would hiss back in their gibberish tongue, asking them what they meant only to be received with the repeated mantra, caressing his shivering body in their freezing grip.

He couldn’t even call them nightmares half of the time, never feeling fear ( ~~couldn’t feel fear~~ ) and only uneasy peace and anxiety with the steady passivity of his sleeping subconscious. Sometimes he wondered if his dreams were trying to tell him something, but whenever he felt even an inkling of truth, he would be pulled back into the waking.

It was safe to say that Danny didn’t like his dreams.

It was even safer to say that he didn’t like them changing.

His awareness of his sleeping state was conscious enough that fear rarely gripped him the way it would in his waking world. So, when he “woke up” to the familiar darkness, he didn’t scream (not like he could scream if he wanted to, any air he took into his lungs was gripped in ice-born claws and ripped from him, leaving a heavy ache in his chest).

His (green) eyes looked up when something  _changed_ , as if his world had turned on it’s axis and some gear had shifted just so out of place ( ~~or perhaps back in place~~ ). The halfa noticed with faint anxiety that at some point the drone that had been near constant in the darkness had grown louder, revealing wordless somethings that the spiders would often whisper to him.

S̴̨̝̪̙̫̫̯̱̗̫͂̋́͛͊͊̚e̡̢̻̳̫͉̻̠̎̉̃̈͠͡͞ẻ̪̰̞̜͔̒͛̎̒̎̔͜ š̶̜̞̣̩̤̮̤̪̊̀͂̔͌̚̚͜ͅe̷͉̟͔͈͇͓͔̤̐͆̍̾̋͜ê̻̪̯͚̾̊̾͘͢…̸͈̼̣̲͎͚͍͑̒̄̕͟͞ s̷͔̤̯͙̤̗͐͊̉̎̉̍͋͞͠e̛͇̖̮̟̯͆̾̅͐̅͑͘͟͜͠ȩ̮̼̤̝̪̼́̈̿͐…̧̫̹̱̭̘̳̃̑͑̂̑̋̋̈̒ m̷̥̙̰͔̬͔̬͕̻͛͛̓̇͛͘͠͡͞ͅę͔͚̖̹̂̃̂̓̆͋̈̓̕…̴̡̜̩̙̼̘͈͊͒͑̒̊͆̑̚̚ͅ s͔͙̼̝͇̬͕̦̟͒́͛̊̈̎̍̂̎̚ͅȩ̷̛̬̜̹̩̍͊͒͘͠͡è̛̹̳͓͉̯̫͋͑̕͟…̛̖̺̪͖̟͓̗̥̀̂̄͛̌͜ y̵̢͕̗̲̤̟͔͂̒̅̄̽͑͑͠o̝̹̼̰̩̥͍̮͚͑̋͗͂̅́͜ư̷̩͎̻̪̱̅͐́͗̋̚͜͢͞

The ghost boy let out a noise akin to a jagged chirp and hiss, wondering when the spider webs had appeared (or had they always been there, but unseen in the absence of the light).

And there was light.

It was a door ( ~~archway, gate, portal~~ ).

Danny had never seen it before and he was immediately reminded of the doors that lined the ghost zone. It wasn’t the door’s appearance that reminded him, but the feelings he got from the entryway.

The doors in the ghost zone seemed to breathe with the life it’s world lacked, both inviting and warning foolish onlookers who attempted to breach what was not theirs (world doors were the most tempting and the most dangerous).

The door in front of him felt… almost safe. Promising him warmth from the chill that had long seeped into his bone from the inside and turned his flesh into living ice. Danny couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to it, arching towards it like a starving plant towards sunlight.

Just as he was about to grab the doorknob, Danny stopped ( ~~was stopped~~ ). Faintly, as much as he could be, he was confused, fingers still straining towards the handle though his arm remained in place.

s̸͇͎̭̳̟̗̩̳̱͕̭͒ę̵̪̖̠͎̬̲͉̯͎̊͛̊e̶̪̥͒̍̾̇̒̋ ̸͉͕̞̦̗͚͊s̸̖̣͌̉͆͌̓̑̕ȩ̵͍͙̙̩̩̃̽̕ȩ̷̻͈̼̞̩͕̖̮̜̟͐̿͂͛͋͊ ̶͙̬̯̞̳̾͆̇̀͌̓͋s̶̰͙͈̮̱͊̏͑̆̈́͑̃̾̕ͅe̶̢̯̮͙̦͑̆̃͂̔̈́̏͗͝e̷͉̮̜͓͚̳̤̼̘̩͆

The whispering was growing in his ears and they were starting to sound accusing. Guilt welled up in him, crackling at his chest though he didn’t know why.

I̥͇̭͕͕̓͌̋͒̈͂͋͌̚͞ w̵̺̫͉̜̹̤̟͖͂̃͆̿̈́̾̕͢͜a̸̮̝̰͔͚̞̼̗̓̏̌̃͒͛̐̓͞͠n̯̝̲͉͓̭̠̼̿̔̐̓͘͟͢t̢̡͕̠̩͍͆͂̃̄̍̓́̔̆̕ t̡̤̹̗͈̳̤̲́̍̈̇̐̕͢͟o̼̳̱̙͉̼͊̊̋͂͆͢ ̷̛̤̳͉͚̬̹͉̲̊̾̿̽͆̽͆͆̔̄̈́̒̃̈́̐͌͑͂͂̾̿́̾̊̿̽͒͌͜͝ͅͅŞ̴͙̙̬̃̐͗͐̓̏͂͌̈́E̵̘̯͉̙͎͔̫̱͇̳̦̯͇͇͈͍̳̥̲̽̋̿̾̌̆E̷̢͙̼̣̙͊͂̇̿̌̓̉̇͛̾̏̋̃̑̀͘͘͠

He responded back in the hissing and static clicking that had become his own, arching almost desperately to the door for a reason that Danny couldn’t (refused to) understand..

 

**Y̠̞̬̣̟͊͂̋͑̈́̈͒̆͟͟ Ǫ̶̤̬͈̪͈͕͌̓̐̽̓͋͝ Ư̥͖͖̟̱̥̩̪̏͛̐̏̈́͒̐̕̚͜  A̶͚̻͈̗͍̣̳̱̖͗̊̉̉̌͑̏͠͝ R̵̫̬̼̦̻̎̏̂̒̚͘ Ȩ̧̛̣̲̙̬͋̋͘  N̖̥̮͕͕̬̊̊͐͗̃̅̍ O̧̼̯̻̼̹̰̓͂̈̓͊̆͞ Ț̸̡̢͉̘̩̞̘̰̜͋͂̑̋̚͠͠  R̸̡̳̞̦̥̹͍͎͊͗͛̒̌̒̐̽̊̏ Ę̖͎̟̻̽̎̒̋̅ Ä̧̨͕̳̖͇̣̖̮͈́̔͐̎̃͐͘ D̴͔̲̮͎͍̪̀̍̎̌̐̀̔͘̕ͅ Y̭͈̲̝̻̹̰̅͆̽̓͢͝ͅ  
.**

He was awake with a desperate gasp, sucking in air as if he had been holding his breath. Looking around to assure to himself that, yes, he was awake and, no, the walls weren’t moving, he slowly began to calm down. He relaxed as he heard the familiar tone of the clock ticking in the background, eyes drooping with exhaustion.

Looking down, he had a faint moment to feel the familiar chill building in his chest before he drifted back into dreamless slumber.

When he woke up, he wouldn’t remember the dream he had that night, and by the morning, the blackened, frostbitten hand print encircling his wrist would have faded.


	2. Door 2: Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Secrets  
> What do they see when they look at me?
> 
> Edit: There were a ton of mistakes in this chapter that I had to fix whoops. I'm a bit embarrassed xD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Implied domestic abuse to an unnamed character. 
> 
> So this is in the same verse/au/timeline as the first day. 
> 
> Hint: the crossed out sentences are things that Danny intrinsically knows on a very deep level (instinct, I would say) but refuses to either think about or believe.

Danny didn’t try to make a habit of keeping things from people. When he was younger, he remembered how horrible of a liar he was; how his cheeks used to turn red and his lips would tremble with a repressed smile. His mom would often give him an exasperated, fond look whenever he tried but ended up giggling.

The first tell to go was the trembling smile that took up half of his face. It was hard for him to feel anything but chilly fear when he knew that if he told his mom where he really was at night, that he might have ended up in the lab on the other side of a scalpel.

The second to go was the red that took over his cheeks. His chilled blood, courtesy of his ice core, made it difficult for his complexion to turn a red beyond a light tint. The older he got, the more the color seemed to drain from his skin ( ~~sometimes he thought he saw blue near the bone~~ ).

By the time he was in his second year of high school, he could have probably told someone that the sky was green and they would have  _believed_ him from how serious he looked. Pale boy Fenton with limbs too thin for his body and eyes too big for his face. It looked less cute the older he grew ( ~~or didn’t grow~~ ).

Danny didn’t like to keep secrets from the people he loved, but the habit grew too strong for him to control at times. It came to a point when Danny realized that half of the things that came out of his mouth were deflections or flat out lies. His manipulations took a life of their own, turning small untruths into elaborate stories.

Sam and Tucker knew something was wrong, tried to help him in whatever way they could. They told him that they were worried; they told him that they loved him; they told him that he was _scaring_ them.

Danny couldn’t understand,  _wouldn’t_ understand, not as he woke up silently crying from his endless nightmares only to be pulled into a living one; not as he hid his bruises and beatings from those he cared about because he didn’t want them to be upset.

(no matter what he did they were always sad and it was hurting him. It made him itch deep under his skin that he couldn’t make them happy,  _why weren’t they happy_ )

He wondered if he could tell them who he was, what he was, but every time he thought about it fear of improportional magnitude swept through him and, as if it were another conscious altogether, horrible things they would do to him overtook his rational thoughts.

~~(he couldn’t lose them, he loved them, he couldn’t lose them)~~

They still turned to him with those concerned eyes and wondered where they had gone wrong, what they could have done better. Danny didn’t tell them that there was nothing, not really.

It took an unnaturally long time for Danny to wonder if something was  _wrong_ with him. Was it not normal to lie about what he was if it meant keeping himself (and the people around him) safe? Wasn’t it normal to come home bruised and bleeding if he was protecting the town from the infestation that he himself had caused?

Wasn’t it normal to be afraid every second of every day when his fears and paranoia were  _justified_??

There was a presentation, school wide for his year that caused something to shift in a way that put Danny on edge. A woman from a nonprofit had come in to discuss domestic abuse, talk about the signs, the laws, and the resources that were available for victims of such crimes.

Danny had listened, remembering the woman he had met in his first month of fighting ghosts. He remembered the way she looked at him with a black eye clutching her child to her shaking form in an alleyway. Remembering how she hadn’t asked for him not to hurt her, but for him  _not to tell him_. The “him” that was calling her name across the street. The ghost boy hadn’t understood, first thought jumping to how the man must have jumped her or robbed her, and had granted her wish. It wasn’t until later that he realized what he had witnessed and hoped that the woman and her child had gotten somewhere safe.

He’d grabbed the cards, the list of resources, not noticing how people stared at the bruise on his cheek from a right hook courtesy of Skulker, not noticing how people began to connect the wrong dots.

Danny was a liar and a secret-keeper. He dealt with misconceptions and falsehoods as both his identities everyday of his life, but this was never something that he had thought to deal with (people being concerned  _for_ him).

People coming up to him asking him if he was ok made him confused. The new, careful and concerned eyes watching him made him jumpy. When he asked his friends what was going on, they gave him a familiar worried glance.

“Danny,” they said, pausing for a split second.

“When was the last time you looked in a mirror?”

_See see see see me see you_

He was so tired of those words. Tired of their every iteration, tired of their every meaning, and most of all, tired of their refusal to  _go away_. He didn’t need them haunting him in his living day along with his sleeping nights.

He was trying to see. But every time he looked, he saw the same thing: big blue eyes and a pale, tired face. Danny simply didn’t see what other people saw ( ~~didn’t see how he had changed, was changing~~ ).

He tried not to ask what people saw in him.

~~He knew he knew~~


End file.
